Concrete Rose
by TheFutureKatana
Summary: Fifteen year old Skarlet lives in fear of her father,Shao Kahn, a charismatic yet violent patriarch. Although generous and well-respected throughout Outworld, he is repressive at home. The discovery of a newly liberated life come when Outworld is shaken by a coup. This discovery will lift the silence for Skarlet and reveal an awful,bruising secret at the heart of her family life.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Mortal Kombat. I`m just borrowing their characters to torture for a bit.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

I was at my study desk when Mileena came into my room, my school skirts piled on the crook of her arm. She placed them on my bed. She had brought them in from the lines in the backyard, where I had hung them to dry that morning. Ermac and I washed our school uniforms while the slaves washed the rest of our clothes. We always soaked tiny sections of fabric in the foamy water first to see if the colors would run, even though we knew they wouldn`t. We wanted to spend every minute of the half hour Father allocated to uniform washing.

"Thank you, Mileena. I was about to bring them in." I said, getting up to fold the clothes. It wasn`t proper to let an older person do your chores, but Mileena did not mind. There was so much that she didn`t mind.

"The rain is coming. I didn`t want them to get wet." She ran her hand across my uniform, a red plaid skirt with a darker-toned waistband, long enough not to expose my knees when I wore it. She let go of my skirt, almost reluctantly.

"Father`s going to have to step down as the Kahn."

I stared. She was sitting on my bed, knees together.

" You`re going to be the Kahnum?"

"Yes." She smiled then looked down at her lap.

"When?"

"In October."

"Thanks be to Shinnok." It was what Ermac and I said, what Father expected us to say when good things happened.

I held one of the skirts carefully, making sure the folded edges were even.

"Did school go well?' Mileena asked, rising. She had asked me earlier.

"Yes."

"The maids are cooking for the soldiers; they will be here soon."Mileena said, before going back downstairs. I followed her and placed my folded skirts on the table in the hallway, where one of the maids would get them for ironing.

The soldiers, members of the Brotherhood of Shadow, soon arrived, and their noisy chatter, accompanied by robust laughter, echoed upstairs. They would argue and debate strategies for about half an hour and then Mileena would interrupt in her low voice, which barely carried upstairs even with my bedroom door open, to tell them that a "little something" had been prepared for them. When the maids started to bring the platters of grilled and roasted meats and roasted potatoes, the men would gently chastise Mileena. Then the _clink-clink-clink_ of forks and knifes scraping against the plates would echo over the house. Mileena never used plastic cutlery, no matter how large the group.

They had just started to fight over the food when I heard Ermac float up the stairs. I knew he would come into my room first because Shao Kahn was not home. If he was, Ermac would go into his own room first to change.

" _Kal awanu?_ "("How are you?") I asked when he came in. His school uniform, blue long pants and white shirt with the school crest blazing from his left breast, still had the ironed lines running down the front and back. He was voted neatest junior boy last year and Dad had hugged him so tightly that Ermac`s back almost snapped.

"Fine." He stood by my desk, flipping idly through the physics textbook open before me. "What did you eat for lunch?"

"Roast lamb."

 _I wish we still had lunch together_ , Ermac said with his eyes.

.  
"Me, too," I said,aloud.

Before, our driver would pick me up first. Then we would drive over to get Ermac at his school. He and I would then have lunch together once we got home. Now, because Ermac was in the new A.P program at his school, he attended after-school lessons. His schedule had been revised but not mine, and I couldn`t wait around to have lunch with him. I was to have had lunch, taken my siesta and started studying by the time he got , Ermac knew what I had for lunch every day. We had a menu on the kitchen that was changed twice a month. But he always asked me, anyway. We did that often, asking each other questions that we already knew the answers to. Perhaps it was so that we would not ask the other questions, the ones whose answers we did not want to know.

"I have assignments to do,' Ermac said, turning as if to leave.

"Mileena`s going to be Kahnum," I said. He wheeled back and sat down at the edge of my bed. "She told you?"

"Yes. She`s having her coronation in October."

Ermac closed his eyes for a while and then opened them. "We will take care of her during her rule; we will protect her."

I knew that he meant from our father`s wrath once he got word of it, but I didn`t say anything.

He sat on my bed for a while longer before he went downstairs to have lunch; I pushed my textbook aside, looked up and stared at my daily schedule, pasted on the wall above me. _Skarlet_ was written in bold letters on top of the white sheet of paper, just as _Ermac_ was written on the schedule above Ermac`s desk in his room. Shao Kahn liked order. It showed even in the schedules themselves, the way his meticulously drawn lines in black ink, cut across each day. He revised them often. When school was in, we had less free time and more study time, even on the weekends. When we were on vacation, we had a little more spare time to read newspapers, play chess and train our fighting skills.

* * *

It was during family time the next day that the coup happened. Shang Tsung had just checkmated Ermac when we heard the martial music on the radio, the solemn strains making us stop to listen. One of Father`s generals with a strong Outworld accent came on and announced that there had been a coup and that Outworld had acquired a new realm. We would be told shortly who the realm`s new head of state was.

Shang Tsung pushed the board aside and excused himself. Ermac, Mileena and I waited for him silently. I knew he was calling his fellow right hand man, Quan Chi, perhaps to tell him something about handling any potential uprising. When he came back, we drank the wine, served in tall glasses, while he talked about the coup. Conflict begat conflict, he said, telling us about the bloody years leading to the Realm Wars. A conflict always began a vicious cycle. Men would always overthrow one another because they could, because they were all power hungry.

Of course, Shang told us, the Outworld citizens were corrupt. Rumours circulated about money that was stashed in foreign bank accounts, money meant for building roads and paying workers` salaries. But what Outworld needed was not soldiers ruling them, but a renewed democracy. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Renewed Democracy/em. It sounded important. But then, most of what Shang said sounded important. He liked to lean back and look upwards when he talked, as if he was searching for something in the air.

The day after the coup, we sat in the living room and studied the newspapers. Only one had a critical editorial, calling on Shao Kahn to quickly implement a return to autocracy plan. He read an article from another paper out loud, an opinion column by a writer who insisted that it was indeed time for a democratic government, since the autocracy was out of control and the economy was a mess.

" 'Change of Guard.' What a headline. They are all afraid. Writing about how corrupt the autocracy is, as if they think the civilian government wouldn`t be. These realms are going downhill. "

"The Kahns will deliver them," I said, knowing he would like my saying that.

"Yes, yes," Father said, nodding. He reached out and caressed my hand and I felt as if my mouth was filled with melting sugar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mortal Kombat. If you are triggered by mentions of blood,implied abuse and domestic abuse, you might wanna sit this one out. Or not. Do what you want.**

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

In the following weeks, the newspapers we read during our spare time sounded different, more subdued. The mood of the realm was different as well; it was more critical and questioning than it used to be. Even the drive to school was different. The first week after the coup, our driver plucked green tree branches every morning and stuck them to the car, lodged above the number plate, so that the demonstrators would let us drive past. The green branches meant Solidarity. Our branches never looked as bright as the demonstrators', though. Sometimes, as we drove past, I wondered what it would be like to join them, chanting "Freedom," standing in the way of cars.

In later weeks, when our driver drove past certain roads, there were soldiers at the roadblock near the market, walking around and caressing their weapons. They stopped some carriages and searched them. Once I saw a man kneeling on the road beside his cart with his hands raised high in the air.

But nothing changed at home. Ermac and I still followed our schedules, still asked each other questions whose answers we already knew. The only change was the arrival of a Moroi woman at one of my father`s meetings. She was young and looked up often as she spoke, her gold eyes piercing the listeners. She kissed the Book of Shadows slowly as it was passed around. It would have seemed overdone if someone else had done it, but with her it was not. It felt real. She was newly signed onto the Moroi council and was awaiting her assignment.

However, halfway through my father`s speech, she cleared her throat rather loudly, almost sarcastically. The audience drew in a collective breath. Some sighed while others had their mouths in a big O. They were used to Shang Tsung`s sparse sermons, to Father`s dominant monotone. Slowly, their faces returned to normal. I watched Father purse his lips and look sideways to see if Ermac and I were reacting. He nodded approvingly when he saw our blank expressions.

After the meeting, we stood outside the hall`s entrance, waiting while Father greeted the people crowded around him. Some of the men whispered to him and Father whispered back. Then the men thanked him, shaking his hand with both of theirs before leaving. Father finally finished his mingling and, with the wide courtyard now mostly emptied of the carriages and people that had cluttered it like teeth in the mouth, we headed to our carriage.

"That young Moroi…. Women like her bring trouble to the realms. We must remember to watch for her." Father said, as he unlocked the carriage door and placed his books on the seat before turning toward Quan Chi`s residence. We always dropped in to visit him after meetings.

"May I stay outside, Father?" Mileena said, leaning against the carriage. "I feel nauseous."

Father turned to look at her. I held my breath. It seemed a long moment, but it might have only been seconds.

"Are you sure you want to stay in the carriage?"

Mileena was looking down; her hands were pressed against her stomach in an attempt to hold her urge to vomit back. "My body doesn`t feel right," she mumbled.

"I asked if you were sure you wanted to stay in the carriage."

Mileena looked up. "I`ll come with you. It`s really not that bad."

Father`s face did not change. He waited for her to walk towards him, then he turned and they started to walk towards the house. Ermac and I followed. I watched Mileena as we walked. Until then, I had not noticed how pale and drawn she looked. Her skin, usually a smooth peach, looked like the moisture had been sucked out of it. Ermac spoke to me with his eyes: _What if she throws up?_ I would hold up my skirt hems so she could vomit into it, so we wouldn`t make a mess in Quan Chi`s house.

His house looked as though the architect had realized too late that he was designing residential quarters, not a fortress.

"Master Kahn!" Quan Chi said. His pale face broke into a smile when he saw Father. He was at the dining table, eating. He asked us to join him, but Father refused on our behalf.

"How are you,Mileena? You don`t look well."

"I`m fine, sir. It`s my allergies because of the weather. You know, the clash of the dry and wet seasons."

"Skarlet and Ermac, did you enjoy the meeting, then?"

"Yes, sir." Ermac and I spoke at the same time.

We left shortly afterward, a little sooner than usual. Father said nothing during the ride, his jaw moving as if he was clenching his teeth. We all remained silent and listened to the sounds of the night. When we got home, the chief maid had Father`s tea set out, in the porcelain teapot with an ornate handle. Father placed his journals on the dining table and seated himself. Mileena hovered by him.

"Let me pour your tea," she offered, although she never served Father`s tea.

Father ignored her and poured his tea, then told Ermac and I to take sips. Ermac took a sip and placed the cup back on the saucer. Father picked it up and gave it to me. I held it with both hands, took a sip of the imported Edenian tea with sugar and milk, and placed it back on the saucer.

"Thank you, Father," I said, feeling the liquid burn my tongue.

We went upstairs to change, Ermac, Mileena and I. Our steps on the stairs were as measured and as silent as the mood that had settled over us.

"Maybe Lillith can cook dinner by herself today," Ermac said when we reached the top of the curved staircase. "You should rest before dinner, Mileena."

Mileena was going to respond but then she stopped short, covered her mouth with her hand and ran in the direction of the bathroom. I stayed to hear the sharp groans of vomiting from deep in her throat before I went into my room.

Dinner was rice, fist-size chunks of steak cooked until the fat was crisp and soup. Father ate most of the soup, his spoon swooping through the spicy broth in the glass bowl. Silence hung over the table like rain clouds during the wet season. Only the chirping of crickets outside interrupted it.

I finished dinner first. "Thank you, Shinnok. Thank you, Father." I folded my arms and waited until everyone else was done. I didn`t look at anyone; I focused on the picture of Grandfather that hung on the opposite wall instead.

* * *

I was in my room after dinner, reading, when I heard the sounds. Swift, heavy thuds on my Father`s hand-carved bedroom door. I imagined that the door had gotten stuck and Father was trying to open it. If I imagined it hard enough, then it would be true. I sat down, closed my eyes and started to count. Counting made it seem not that long, made it seem not that bad. Sometimes, it was over before I even got to thirty. I was at twenty-nine when the sounds stopped. I heard the door open. Father`s gait on the stairs sounded heavier, more awkward than usual.

I stepped out of my room just as Ermac came out of his. We stood at the landing and watched Father descend. Mileena was slung over his shoulder like one of the sacks of rice his workers smuggled in bulk at the Outworld border. He opened the dining room door. Then we heard the front door open, heard him say something to the gatekeeper,Ani.

"There`s blood on the floor," Ermac said. "I`ll get the brush from the bathroom."

We cleaned up the trickle of blood, which trailed away as if someone had carried a leaking jar of red watercolour paint all the way downstairs. Ermac scrubbed while I wiped.

Mileena did not come home that night, and Ermac and I had breakfast alone the next morning. We didn`t discuss Mileena. Instead, we talked about the three men who were publicly executed two days prior for human trafficking. The men were tied to poles and their bodies kept shuddering, even after the bullets were no longer being pumped into them. I told Ermac what a girl in my class had said: that her mother turned off their television off, asking why she should watch fellow human beings die, asking what was wrong with all the people who had gathered at the execution ground.

Father came home when we were in our rooms studying, according to our schedules. I was drawing pregnant stick figures on the inner flap of one of my textbooks, when he came into my room. His eyes were swollen and redder than usual, and somehow that made him look more vulnerable.

"Your sister will be back tomorrow, about the time you get back from school. She will be fine," he said.

"Yes, Father." I looked away from his face and back at my books.

He held my shoulders, rubbing them in gentle, circular motions.

"Stand up." I stood up and he hugged me, pressed me close so that I felt the beat of his heart.

* * *

Mileena came home the next afternoon. The driver brought her in the carriage with the family name emblazoned on the passenger door, the one that often took us to and from school. Ermac and I stood waiting by the front door, close enough for our shoulders to touch, and we opened the door before she got there. Her pink loin cloth hung lower than usual on her hips; it had been secured with a lazy effort at the side. Her eyes were vacant, like the eyes of those mad people who wandered around the roadsides in town, pulling grimy sacks with their life fragments inside.

I moved back a little, stared at her. Were they certain she was fine? I was still staring at her when Lillith came in. Lillith`s cheekbones were so high that they gave her an angular, eerily amused expression, as if she was laughing at you and you would never know why.

"Good afternoon,Madam," she said. "Will you eat now or after you bathe?"

"What?" For a moment, Mileena looked as though she did not know what Lillith had said. "Not now ,Lillith, not now. Get me hot water and a towel."

Mileena stood hugging herself in the center of the living room, near the glass table, until Lillith brought a plastic bowl of water and a kitchen towel. The display cabinet had three shelves of delicate glass and each one held golden ballet-dancing figurines. Mileena started at the lowest layer, polishing both the shelf and the figurines. I sat down on the leather sofa closest to her, close enough to reach out and fix her loincloth if I wanted.

"This is your study time, Skar. Go upstairs," she said.

"I want to stay here."

She slowly ran the cloth over a figurine, one of its matchstick-size legs raised high in the air, before she spoke. "Skarlet, go."

I went upstairs then and sat staring at my textbook. The black type blurred, the letters swimming into one another, and then changed to a bright red, the red of fresh blood. The blood was watery, flowing from Mileena, flowing from my eyes.


End file.
